


The Morning After

by reindeerjumper



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types, Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
Genre: F/M, Happy Birthday Regency!, Making Love, Making up for lost time, Morning After, POV First Person, Plot Twists, Prompt Fill, Reminiscing, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Smut, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:56:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8570590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: What would have happened the morning after the christening if Bridget had stayed in Mark's hotel room?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Regency](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regency/gifts).



> I originally wrote this as a prompt fill for a comment on my [Five Sleeping Positions](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8516164/chapters/19519711) fic, but when I heard it was [Regency's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Regency/pseuds/Regency) birthday, I decided it was the perfect little birthday present :) (and made sure to hop off the angst train and make it a little more fluffy (>_>))

I woke the morning after the christening with a sense of familiarity. When I had woken the day after sleeping with Jack, all I could feel was embarrassment and panic (not to mention a wicked hangover). I had quickly thrown on my clothes from the day before, thankful that Jack had slipped out before me, and rushed out of the yurt before I had a chance to run into him. All I knew was that I wanted  _ out-- _ it had been years since I had woken up in a stranger’s bed, the sheets rumpled around me and their unfamiliar cologne clinging to my nostrils. It was a feeling I had lost familiarity with, and as I had stomped my way across the muddy fields of the campground, I was thankful that it was a feeling I was no longer accustomed to. 

This, though, was different. This felt familiar and comfortable and part of me hated that I had allowed it. In all of the years that Mark and I were together, I somehow always managed to wake up before him. For being the more scattered and sloppy of the two of us, I always found it amusing that I  _ wasn't _ the one who slept in religiously. Part of me always chalked it up to the residual nicotine thrumming through my veins, the other part just assuming that Mark’s pent up stress and emotion pushed him to the point of exhaustion. 

As the sunlight streamed in through the blinds, I carefully tucked the blankets around my chest as I pivoted my body towards Mark. I could watch Mark sleep for hours...initially it had started as me staring at him, willing him to wake up so we could shag. Over the years, though, it became just an appreciation for him. 

Mark went through life with a furrowed brow and an almost perpetual frown. I think that's part of the thrill of having him love you--I could make that furrow disappear and that frown melt with just a few kisses, and it always made me feel important and powerful. When he slept, though, Mark looked angelic. The smoothness of his face was almost unrecognizable as he slumbered. His hair always cowlicked and matted, giving him a boyish innocence. When we were together, I would sometimes run my fingers through it, feeling the soft curls under my fingers as he gave a pleasured moan and allowed a sleepy smile to cut across his face. 

I didn't dare do that now. I wasn't afraid of Mark, but I was afraid of what had happened the night before. No matter what I said to Miranda, I never stopped loving Mark Darcy. How could I? I had only broke it off with him because I believed I deserved more attention, not more affection. When Mark was good, he was amazing. He could make me feel like a queen when he wasn't distracted by the ins and outs of his job. I never worried about him cheating on me with another woman--the only other relationship he was invested in was the one he had with the Inns of Court. 

The feelings in my gut were roiling as I looked at him peacefully sleeping. How could I possibly start this again? I had closed that chapter in my life, locking it up tightly with a padlock and throwing the key very far away into the Thames. But that quickly dissipated last night when he told me he was getting a divorce. Even thinking about it now made my heart leap to my throat. Mark’s marriage easily kept him at arm’s length from my desire--he had chosen someone else, and that somehow made going through life without him more bearable. 

Last night, though, I could see in his eyes the sincerity and hopefulness he possessed as he leaned in to kiss me. How many times had I stared into this honey brown eyes? Hungrily, lovingly, angrily, softly, sleepily...I could map out the parts of his iris that flecked darker than the rest, and I could see sincerity when it was there. The only difference in them was the crow’s feet that had crinkled around his eyes when he smiled before kissing me. 

And that kiss...how I had craved those kisses. No one else in the entire world kissed me the way Mark did. I would never admit it to anyone but myself, but I had even felt a flutter when he awkwardly kissed me after misunderstanding the photographer’s direction after the christening. Just the brush of his lips against my temple was enough to make me go weak. And don't get me started on how he kissed me last night once we got up to the room...for every ounce of emotional blockage that Mark possessed, he made up for in raw, orgasmic hunger. 

Even when we made love, it was unmatched to anyone else. Once he had finally gotten rid of my dress (after  _ much _ profanity muttered under his breath (which secretly drove me wild)), Mark made love to me the way he did the first time we slept together. The passion that was tucked underneath the three-piece suits and cufflinks boiled to the surface the minute they were shed. I could sense the hunger and the want that he possessed as he scraped his teeth against my pulse, filling my stomach with warm butterflies. There had been plenty of wonderful sex in the ten years we were together, but there was only one other instance that Mark passionately made love to me the way he did the night of the christening. 

It had happened after he had wrapped me in his jacket on that snowy street corner, snogging me senseless and taking my breath away. Once I had brought him back to my flat, it became very evident to me  _ just _ how much Mark liked me, just as I was. He essentially worshipped every inch of my body, and if I showed any instance at all of insecurity, he would look at me with those warm eyes and gently prove to me just how ridiculous I was being. The night of the christening was no different--this wasn’t simple shagging. 

It was making love...the kind of love that one had lost and regained, with the passion and fervor of never wanting to lose it again. 

I turned a little more on my side to prop my head on my arm. Mark’s thick fringe of eyelashes rested against his cheeks, and his lips were slightly parted as he breathed calmly. The sharpness of his jaw had softened as he aged, but the dimple that I often ran a thumb over before kissing remained exactly the same. I couldn't get over the gray that had started to streak through his brown curls--it had only been a few years since we had broken up, but based on the gray, those few years had been harrowing ones. 

I smiled in spite of myself. Even age couldn't dull the magnetic attraction to him. I suppose it was because I had imagined growing old with Mark, regardless. Part of me assumed that I'd be the one guiding him through the aging process, reassuring him that the gray looked distinguished and that the crow’s feet were signs of happy times. I made a mental note to do those things if he woke up.  _ When _ he woke up…

Bugger.  _ When _ he woke up...I hadn't thought of that. I had secretly been relieved that I hadn't woken up with a hangover like the one in Jack’s yurt. This hadn't been an alcohol infused romp. This had been a reunion. But it still didn't negate the fact that it was, for lack of better wording, awkward as fuck. 

Before we had fallen asleep, Mark had confessed that he missed me. It slid across my shoulders in a whisper-- _ “God, I've missed you.”  _ How many times had I said the same thing to myself? I’d never spoken the words out loud because they hurt too much, and I had been thankful for the searing echo of his alarm before I could say them back to him. Even that couldn’t take me off of the high that I was on--sure, it had been reminiscent of when we had been together, but it didn’t deter my attention from the heavy, warm weight of his arm around me. God, how I had missed that feeling. 

Now, here I was, once again staring at him while he slept. I knew his alarm was going to go off any minute, notifying him that he only had X number of hours before his flight to somewhere new so that he could once again save the world. No matter how many times work tore Mark away from me, I couldn’t help being attracted to him and his morals. It wasn’t like he was leaving me to shag another woman or have a round of drinks with his mates--on the contrary, it was always to save someone far less fortunate than he.

Somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I knew I didn’t want the alarm to wake him up. I wanted it to be me, instead. I owed him that much, at least, for his honesty and his adoration. 

Besides, I’d be falling for Mark Darcy for the rest of my life. It was inevitable--now matter how many times we parted ways, no matter how many ways we disappointed each other, I would  _ always _ love him. Always. I wasn’t sure how the rest of the day, month, year would pan out after last night’s events, but I wanted to make sure that if this  _ was _ the last time Mark and I really connected, that I at least gave him a proper send-off. 

I ran the back of my hand against his cheek. My hand was cool against the warmth of his skin, and I saw his hand flex instinctively as he drew a breath in sharply. His eyes fluttered open, and I felt the warmth in my chest bloom. I couldn’t help the smile on my face as his eyes made contact with mine. He clearly had to take a moment to register what was going on...it had been so long since I had woken him up that I’m sure it was jarring. When the realization settled, however, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at me warmly. It was enough to make me cry.

“Good morning,” he murmured, nuzzling into his pillow without breaking eye contact.

“Hello,” I said, returning the smile that radiated off of his face. “Sleep well?”

“Better than I’ve slept in a very long time. I forgot how wonderful it was to share a bed with you, what with your knees in my back and the way you snore.” His smile widened.

I could feel the color rise in my cheeks, but I knew it was playful jabbing. He always told me these things. Initially I had tried to stop myself from doing them, but just ended up with bags under my eyes from staying up all night. Eventually I had just succumbed to the fact that if he truly had a problem with it, he’d sleep somewhere else. By now, I knew that he probably meant it...sometimes the oddest sensations are the ones you become most accustomed to.

“Sorry,” I murmured. “You know I’m a mess when I sleep.”

Mark reached out a hand to run the pad of his finger down my cheek, and a thrill went through me. “I meant it, darling. Some things you just get used to, and having those knobbly little knees in my spine felt like home.” 

I laughed and buried my head in my pillow. I could hear him laughing too, and it was like music. The timbre of his voice in the morning was always an octave lower than normal, with some grit to it, and it seemed to match the stubble that covered his chin. I felt his hand push the hair back from my temple, and I turned my face towards him. 

“You know,” he began, keeping his hand there to stroke my jawline with the back of his hand, “I meant what I said last night.” I felt my heart catch in my throat. “This morning just confirms it for me. I’ve missed you, Bridget. More than I cared to admit to myself. But now that I’m here, looking at you with your mussed hair and that sleepy look on your face, I can’t quite seem to deny it anymore.”

I bit my lower lip to swallow my reply and push back the tears. I wanted to climb on top of him, just to feel the heat of his body against mine and the safety of his arms around me. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want him to leave. I just wanted to stay in this moment.

Mark took his thumb and ran it along my lower lip, where I still was gnawing concernedly. I relaxed as he caressed it, his eyes soft and full of love. I placed a kiss against his thumb, and I saw his face blossom into a grin. He was going to let my lack of reply go...he had said what he wanted to say, without want or need of reciprocation.

But I felt the same. 

“I’ve missed you, too,” I whispered. 

The grin faltered on Mark’s face for a split second as my words sunk in. He cupped my face as he leaned up on an arm, and he bent down to ghost a kiss against my lips. Morning breath and all, I wanted him. The desire for him swelled up inside of me, and I couldn’t help myself as I pushed my body forward to meet my mouth with his. I kissed him with the hunger of someone who had been starved for weeks. Our teeth clashed as I covered his mouth with mine, and I could feel his tongue hungrily seeking mine out. I let out a whimper, partially from desire and partially from emotion, and it seemed to spur Mark on. He kissed me senseless, until I was out of breath and completely aroused. 

“Mark,” I said breathlessly, pushing on his chest to better see his face. He pulled back and looked at me, his lips swollen and red, the color rising in his neck. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, scanning my face for an answer.

I hated myself for saying it, but I responded, “Don’t you have a flight to catch?”

Mark closed his eyes, grimacing at the reality of my statement. He rolled over, and I could see him grab his watch.

“My alarm doesn’t go off for another seventeen minutes,” he said, rolling back towards me. “I think I can do you justice in seventeen minutes.” He grinned wickedly as his hand dove beneath the covers, his mouth covering mine once more.

“Oh,  _ Mark!” _ I gasped as he laughed into my hair.

“Let me prove to you just how much I missed you,” he said, grazing his teeth against my neck and placing gentle kisses along my jawline. 

 

And that’s just what he did. 


End file.
